A Cloak For Sins
by Lady The Warrior
Summary: [Complete] Finally, escaping from Mundus' chains, Vergil stumbles street after street, fighting his most challenging opponent yet... death.
1. Corrupted

_Tick…tock…_

_Tick…tock…_

Pain… was an understatement,

To him, it was an ocean, full of unknowable depths, of monsters and demons that lurked and swayed in every corner. With every step, every single muscle movement, he felt it surging through his body and soul, piercing deeper and deeper into his core. It was an understatement indeed…to say that was like a sword or worse a lightning blade that knew of no boundaries and pushed through every old scar printed on his body, tattooed even for a lifetime, and cut without mercy, without a second of hesitance.

To him… pain wasn't just those bleeding wounds in his guts that were deep and warm as it squeezed between his intestines, pulling them out and splashing them right at his feet. It wasn't the breathe he held as he walked down the cobblestone street, when every step felt like a nail bomb exploding in his innards. It wasn't the throbbing ache in his head, the white burning light flashing before his eyes… it wasn't the gashes on his limbs. It wasn't the broken bones that had stopped healing long ago.

Pain… wasn't of his body… decaying. Slowly but rightfully so … it was of the time…

Pain was of the time ticking fast behind his ear.

Tick…tock…tick…tock…

Screaming, scratching at the walls of his head that, " Vergil…you're dying!" And he was… for the last time.

Death wasn't a new concept, for all he knew, he had been death before, he had died for a thousand times and yet came back to life. But all of them felt like mere nightmares that he would wake up from them unharmed, this time however, this time it was real. So true.

_You're dying._

And there was nothing he could do about it, or perhaps there was. If he focused enough on the pain itself, not the one engulfing his body and sucking the life out of it, no… the one that was buried within his soul, he would wake up again. The one that reeked of failure reeked of weakness. The one that whispered, you are nothing but a half-breed human without strength to even protect yourself, let alone others. Maybe then he would wake up.

But…

"It hurts,"

He clutched at his heart, coughing up blood. Thick… black, ink-like blood that smelled of unforgiving rotten flesh of the very demons, he slayed in hell. Was he one of them after all? And if he was then… why he felt so human again? Like he was eight all over again, hiding in the bushes behind their house, watching it through blurry eyes as it burnt into ashes.

"Mother…" and it slipped out of his tongue unknowingly, it had been a while.

If he would have had any tear left, he would have cried right then and there. He would have fallen to the ground and screamed his heart out. The heart that felt like exploding from all the sins and secrets and… pain piled up for years and years. For too goddamn many years... Just _like a lost little boy._

**_The night was dark, no father was there,_**

**_The child was wet with dew;_**

**_The mire was deep, and the child did weep,_**

**_And away the _**vapour**_ flew._**

He had mourned her though. _The mother_ who left him behind, her screams still vivid in his head. If only he was stronger, if only he had enough power…

No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings

He would have mourned the brother too. _Dante._ The twin, he would have loved to destroy in the womb. But the fight they started for dominance back in the womb, had only one winner and it was the one who always yearned for more.

Vergil won. He always won. And that earned him the title of the oldest, the strongest, and the most reliable son. He was supposed to take care of the younger one, the weaker one… yet…

Failure was pain.

Losing to that younger brother was failure. Falling down the pit was failure, getting defeated by the prince of darkness and ending up in chains was failure.

_Was pain._

Grimacing, his knees buckled and he fell sideways to the mud. _Was this the end?_

**_He who desires, but acts _**not,**_ breeds pestilence._**

Blake whispered in his ears with a comforting melody. It brought smile to his lips, really knowing that he still remembered every word of that book and perhaps it was a little too late, those words still managed to make sense. Even in death Vergil still was aware of the unfinished fight with the split image of himself.

As the clock kept on ticking and among the agonizing murmurs of unknown creatures in the dark that screamed, "Your time is up." he felt a tingling sense of power, coming from far away, calling to him, giving him enough strength to try and stand up again.

Perhaps it was the truth, that he deserved to wear his sins like the cloak covering his crumbling body but he wasn't ready to go down. Not yet. He knew the familiar warm voice that called him through the dark alleys of a cold city, buried beneath the despair and hopeless whispers of a thousand demons, of past, present and future, that clawed at him and wanted nothing for him to fall back again, through pained memories of a lost childhood, of a mother that died protecting her children and a brother that was his only reason to fight, he heard it.

Weak but clear enough to show him a path.

A path of not giving up to death. Not today.

"I can still fight. "

* * *

_A/N: I'm playing Devil May Cry 5 again and I am full of Vergil's feels right now. This short one-shot is just an excuse to quote William Blake and search through Vergil's state of mind before he finds Yamato._

_Hope you enjoy._

_I was listening to this song called " Wear your sin" by Orpheus Omega while writing this. Thus the title..._


	2. V

_A/N: What am I doing?_  
_The answer is I don't fucking know._  
_This is just an excuse to quote a bunch of Dante's Divine Comedy quotes because I'm already engrossing myself with this masterpiece._

_PS. All the "his" and "him" and "he" parts refer to Vergil as an individual because I highly doubt V views himself as his previous self, at least not completely._

* * *

**_"There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery."_**

V stares at the old painting, half burnt, hanging loosely on the wall. Trying to remember, trying to realize and to make true sense of the tragedy that has happened to him. He was all but born only hours before, already left alone, cold and naked in a mansion that held too many memories.

And he is scared, holding onto his trembling body as he kneels in front of the painting, trying to remember, yet finding the attempt all the more painful and unnecessary. _Perhaps only to_ survive he convinces himself. After all, he doubts he has enough time left to waste away like this, pondering beneath a pile of ashes that held so much of **_his_ **humanity. So much weakness.

He was supposed to die.

**_"…yet I lost life's breath,"_** V says, his voice hoarse and new to his ears as he lifts his shaking hands feeling regret.

He doesn't know what he regrets the most though, it just flows to him, the memories, harsh and truthful, like a blinding white light, burning his eyes as he sees ghosts of the past. Of a long time ago, where a mother's soft hands ran through **_his_** hair, caressed his face and told stories of legends. Of an era filled with darkness and terror and of a man that was born of hell flames but fought for humanity and stayed to protect a world he could never really be a part of. V remembers, as he sits in the center of **_his_** childhood, scanning the room, the burnt piles and scratched walls, he hears laughing, teasing and fighting of two boys, oblivion to the horror surrounding them, in a world that they were supposed to keep hidden, away from unwelcome ears and eyes. _A brother **he** envied so much._

And he feels sadness, flowing through his veins as he remembers, deadening his mind. Like a poison to his spirit, dulling him and killing off every other mixed up emotions until it is the only victor in his core. He doesn't feel fear, weakness, or even pride anymore but a black mist settling upon him and refusing to shift. He feels lost, more lost than when**_ he_ **wandered in hell, trying to avoid the torture that was forced onto him every minute by the prince of darkness, whom **_he_ **once dared to challenge in youth.

_Oh… how foolish._

He holds himself, in an attempt to put halt to this weakness that embraces his body; to stop the shaking but to no avail… all his life he threw away everything, _everything_ he loved and cared for power and now look at him. A shell, only a half of his true self, whimpering to the sound of the wind, singing him a requiem of lost souls between the pillars of a house of death and demons.

And that damn pride, that was only a product of firing flames inside of him, to prefer the dark abyss instead of a helping hand of a brother, reaching… yearning for him to grasp it and yet…

**_"Pride, avarice, __and__ envy… the only tongues men know and heed … are all a Babel of despair."_**

He is ready to die. Why would he even want to survive anymore,_ after all this time?_ What was there left to fight for?

And V lies. Closing his eyes, letting his senses drift off, he feels like he's a hundred years old, tired of fighting with a strained body. He closes his eyes, listening to the soft sound of a melody, coming from far away, maybe somewhere in his subconscious but too real to be a dream. A sound of a familiar tender melody that sips through his heart, deeply harrowing and torrential in a way it encompasses his body. It's powerful, it's sad and it feels like a friend all the same as his mortal enemy but it is for sure an undying accompaniment, helping him forget and letting him drift away.

V wasn't supposed to exist, _how a man can survive this much?_ He lifts his hands, unconsciously, feeling the slender strings caressing his fingers, its curves tenderly traced under his palm and he plays. He plays to forget, to forgive and to let go of the sorrow clinging to his heart. As he opens his eyes, the tears start to run down his cheeks.

And as the melody ascends the notes become more fierce, more powerful, taking control of him. And here he thought he had lost the ability to cry somewhere along in the _dark forest of nightmares_. It is now more than crying, the kind of desolate sobbing coming from a man who has lost all hopes yet is still fighting within to find a purpose, powerful enough to lift him to his feet as he stares once more with wet eyes at a picture of a woman, who left **_him_** to die.

The pain of a stab, even though spiritual, suddenly warms his chest as his eyes shifts to the small boys in the picture, particularly _one_, now a deep frown forming on his brow as he takes a deep breath in.

His hands falling to his sides, determined, perhaps he knows what his reason is for getting up. Slowly then, the trembling man rises to his newfound legs. Not letting his eyes wandering away from the painted picture as a huge black bird appears on his shoulder and a panther, wild and unearthly at his side and then the wind blows as though in a mission to wipe away the dried tears on his face, to give him a sort of strength to stand as He lets a bittersweet smile crawl on his lips.

**_"My course is set for an uncharted sea."_**

* * *

_A/N: I don't know about you but the violin part in the game always tears me up, especially those times V brings up his stick in the form of a violin and starts playing... in his mind. I also adopted that._

_Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed_


	3. Urizen

_A/N: Yeah... so the kudos' on this story is the only cue for me to continue writing this shit lol even though I have practically nothing new to present, people seem to like this? I mean I hope you do, you don't tell me anything but I guess I'm gonna be optimistic about!_

_Anyhoooooo I wanted to quote some Seneca too, also wanted to give this story (?) a direction, since I started from the corrupted Vergil, got to V and now Urizen ( but then I thought I really can't write from Urizen's POV, since it is _tooooooo_ one _dimentional_) I wrote this chapter from Dante's POV! ( one : because I like it when Dante gets serious, it means that something is seriously wrong with the situation when our favorite devil haunter doesn't crack jokes every five seconds and _two :_ since I thought this was such an emotional scene for Dante, where he thought there was truly no hope in bringing back Vergil.)_

_Yeah... no... I don't know... hope you enjoy it!_

_If you'd like you can always tell me how awful I am,_

_but for now... _  
_On with this _chapter !

* * *

Perhaps it was truly a pumping dripping-blood heart, disguised as a forbidden fruit, hanging loosly from a deadly tree-branch that rooted in the Underworld. Dante only had a few seconds to think it all through, what had become of them and why?

"Vergil…"

But before him, he didn't see his brother; it was not even a man anymore, only a beast devoid of emotions, heartless and incapable of feeling remorse. Now that he thought about, it was something even far worse than that.

"Hey is that the fruit you've been jabbing about? doesn't look so special to me."

His uncaring tone echoed in the barren ground. This used to be where their home was, now even Dante could see it, how it looked more like a graveyard than anything else. With everything burned up to ashes and their memories, their childhood, buried six feet under. It was hard to even imagine them ever be true. Everything felt like a dream, Dante resist the urge to pinch himself to wake up though, somehow he already knew how it was going to end.

"Yup, this is where it all started,"

This was the end of them, their brotherhood and their rivalry. He had mourned his brother before though when he chose to fall off the edge and give in to his demonic heritage, Dante tried oh so bitterly to convince himself that Vergil had a choice and he made it long before but still . . . he didn't know why something stung in his chest so much, something that made him want to walk up to the beast, tear it's ugly thick skin apart and save his brother. It seemed like it was a little too late for that though. Dante looked up at the monster . . . and this was supposed to be his twin.

"… that day mother saved me and … " the words were bitter even on his tongue, he knew the truth still he felt like nothing could ever piss the shit off of his brother like spitting reality in his face, " left you behind. " The monster didn't even flinch a muscle at Dante's venomous words still the legendary devil haunter went on, " The thing you don't know is, she tried to save you too, she kept searching and searching… " he paused, memories suddenly clouding his better judgment. He hated Vergil as a child, he hated him for not being there for him and their mother despite the promises the older twin often made although he was only a child, a goddamn child, "… until it killed her."

"I have no recollection of this tale, or this place." The beast finally said, eyes fixed on the forbidden fruit, voice just a shadow of its former self. Dante wanted to gag at its rotten smell, but then it wasn't just the smell, it was the feeling of strangeness that had filled his nostrils.

"It's all illusion created by this extraordinary fruit." The bloody fruit now in the palm of its hand, pumping, poisonous, sinful as its greedy eyes wandered over it. " its power you see, is all I ever wanted." Uttered the beast, " And with this I will have everything."

Dante shook his head, not even truth jolted his brother awake, he didn't know this monster, whatever it was, it wasn't Vergil. " No brother you don't have everything, _" What are you going to do with all that power? _Dante wanted to ask, _when you don't have anyone to protect, what would be the reason behind all this fuss?!_

But the beast… was only a beast after all, bringing the fruit to its mouth and biting into its fleshy skin as Dante ran, his grip tightned around the hilt of his devil sword, the fruit was gone and with it… the humanity_._

"That shred of humanity that you still had?" Dante sighed, knowing full well a storm was coming, " You just lost it,"

"That is nothing but the pitiful cries of those without strength"

_Oh but Vergil you always praised father... yet you forgot the most important lesson he ever taught,_ Dante said inwardly before the beast opened his arms talking in a mockery tone;

" come to me brother, I shall enlighten you Dante!"

_**He is most powerful who has power over himself.**_


	4. Whole

_A/N: _

_Writing V is a pleasure for me. Mostly because he's the only guy who wears his heart on his sleeve lol._  
_This_ _chapter is not anything new, it's just our V's state of mind when he finally reaches Urizen and stabs him to become Vergil again. I also love that he separates himself from Vergil, like yeah he is a part of Vergil but he's his own individual as well!_  
_I don't know if I want to continue this anymore, since here Vergil is thankful of Nero for bringing him back but he still doesn't know that Nero is his son and later in the game during their fight with Dante he says that his son doesn't mean anything to him uuuuuup until Dante says that Nero is his son and Vergil is like ooooh uhhhh whaaaat? Nero's my son! and he instantly feels something else other than hatred cause V is in there in the brain department, yelling in his ear that hey dumbass Nero actually saved your life! so you'd better not be an asshole about it!_

_So yeah, with that being said, another chapter will be coming up soon!_

_But first on with this one!_

_Hope you enjoy_

* * *

"The last throes of defeat I see"

Leaning on his cane, V struggled to stride firmly.

Beneath him a ground more painful to walk on than the lava.

Flowing, burning and with every step, it seemed as it pulled him inside itself like a deadly swarm.

But he suppressed it all, every sensation, every feeling buried in his soul that threatened to resurface, be it pain, sorrow, regret, hate … he stopped himself from showing and endured.

_So what if it would take a little while more?_

Ahead, lay a monster.

Heartless, soulless and defeated and the mere sight of him made V smirk. _Oh Vergil, you'd been wrong for so long. You thought you could get rid of me, to gain power and look at you._ V bit his tongue, eyes fixed on the half-alive beast, tapping his cane on the ground as he moved.

Dante was there. Taking what seemed like concerned glances at him. V looked from the corner of his eye. Dante had never been this worried, since- and V fought the urge to smirk again- they were kids. But he liked this face on him better, he looked more of a vulnerable little brother V… no Vergil used to know and less of an arrogant bastard he came to hate.

"V! Get back things about to get really messy," Dante said smugly but the worry expression gave away his true feelings. Even though he had just defeated him. No… not him… Urizen.

He defeated the beast inside of Vergil, making V's mind race as he raised a hand.

"No please, let me." V turned, not even looking back at Dante, eye boring into the beast's greenish ones. "I want to end this battle, with my ownhands." But his hands were shaking, fading, turning into dust. He had just seconds left before completely falling apart.

But he was here, witnessing a beast that ate the fruit from humans' blood of a tree rooted in the deepest part of hell to become… _what he was not supposed to be._ Yet he'd lost.

_Wasn't it obvious why?_

Vergil was stupid. He thought that he could get rid of his human side, get rid of V, that easily, he thought he could finally defeat his brother with pure demonic power, yet… look at him.

Pathetic.

"Do not struggle." The climb was painful but V tried to breathe in, not letting weakness overcome his muscles, even though he was tired… exhausted. It was unbearable living apart from his true self, even though he managed to have a clearer mind to think his actions through without the annoying growls of a demonic side in his ears to try and overcome him every once in a while.

V steadied himself on top of the beast, looking down on him. Looking down yet still unable to hate him, to feel disgusted. It was him after. He smiled. " For if you can't even defeat me, then you've already lost. "

"I will not lose, not to Dante, I need power." The beast growled, looking at Dante, " More power. "

It sounded rigid but miserable and made V pity the thing before him. He wondered how Sparda could come up with a balance within himself, how could Dante? But then it hit him. He would talk to him when the time comes, he would speak with Vergil, He would tell him, he would make him reach that balance, to control and not to contort the power within.

He knelt on the beast's broad chest, cane already raised in his hands. He was tired of being weak too, it reminded him of too many unwanted memories yet perhaps it was only necessary for him to find his true path.

"I know," His voice hoarse and out of breath," We are one and the same, you and I but you lost me and I have lost you." It was only a matter of minutes, seconds and even less as V held the cane above himself, painful memories flashing behind his eyes, the feeling of his chest being ripped open, blood curling up in the back of his throat, blood spilling out of his mouth, his body finally giving up to the tedious torture inflicted on him as he finally brought down the cane with enough force to bury it deep inside the beast's chest,  
"While thy branches mix with mine and our roots together join."

And then the light cradled him.

It was pure white at first and he felt like he was burning, fading, finally not existing but as the blue hint touched his skin, he felt cold again.

He would have smiled if he had the body of his own but inside this familiar mind, he felt secure. The coolness was a blast, the sorrow and the pain mixing with the anger and hatred pushed on to him from an opposite side, a much stronger side but this time he knew that he wasn't going to back down. His fight had only begun.

He would fight, for the sake of himself, for the sake of the kid, Nero, who helped him find himself, who helped him become whole. V already knew how disappointed he might have been. It would be an understatement to say that he didn't care about Nero. He'd never really had a friend, not even as a child, his only companion was Dante and then no one. Yet he found a friend today and he was grateful for that. Even if he lived inside another body now, too foreign for Nero, yet he hoped to talk to him later, let him know, that he was still alive.

That was if Vergil would decide not to stab himself in the heart again. To come to finally love and appreciate him. That was, after all, what V always wanted.

To be loved

and protected.

Vergil felt V in there too, he had his memories, every single one of them and even they were hazy and unrecognizable at times, he knew that it was his now. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder, the illusion around them shattering into pieces as he spotted Dante.

But first, there was still another matter he needed to settle.

"Dante."

* * *

_A/N 2: I'm also planning on writing a chapter with V and Vergil just talking! like this guy really needs to come to terms with his humanity and he actually needs to talk with it to find out about it!_

_ASK DANTE FOR ADVICE? Uhhhh... no. TALK TO V? yeah sure why not!_

_So yeah stay tuned cause ideas are hitting me like a freight train!_

_(Oh also about that other story of mine " I will be here" I'm working on it! meanwhile, if you haven't read it, what are you waiting for!)_

_Cheers,_  
_Bella_


	5. Standing Beside You

_A/N: I was looking at this the other day and although it's been like a year since I last played DMC 5 I thought it was just unfair to leave this fanfic as it was, I didn't want to continue this but reading it again, I thought it deserved an epilogue. Sorry if V sounds a little bit off. I've forgotten how to write him. I did miss my Dante and Vergil's bantering and so I decided to add a little bit of Dante's smugness in here._

_He's an idiot but he's our idiot._

_This chapter is mostly shit, so I don't know if you're going to like it or not. Anyway..._

_Hope you enjoy._

* * *

It was a weekend night and the three of them were sprawled about Dante's shop, chilling, bolting pizza, guzzling beer and laughing at stupid jokes and long exhausting anecdotes. It had been a year since Dante and Vergil had returned from hell, still though the feeling of lack of belonging still sting Vergil more than the hellfires. Although his view to this family thing started to change eventually, for Nero, it was different, Vergil couldn't really put a finger on it, he felt weird, proud and alienated at the same time towards the young devil haunter yet he admired his skills. For Dante, it was another story. He went from hating his twin and his posse to tolerating them, not minding them and … at last, perhaps liking them a little. The latter however changed from day to day, hour to hour or even minute to minute.

This evening was one of the worse ones that Vergil would rather stay away from but no, he found himself sitting idly on the sofa in Dante's shop, Yamato sheathed on his lap, his head hurting from the loud rock 'n roll song banging in the background, watching Dante, Lady and Trish bolting pizza, guzzling beer and laughing. He could already tell that this was going to be a long night as the very drunk Dante started one of his old absolutely repetitive stupid jokes again.

"You know what they say about finding oneself? " he drawled, opening up his eight-hundredths can of beer and chunking all of it down in one go, " I mean Verge here literally did that— amazing."

Lady facepalmed immediately, although she was smirking drunkenly too, " Oh no I can already hear the sound of Yamato being unsheathed." She said dramatically as Dante went on.

"No… listen listen… Mr. poetry showed up looking like the fucking Billie Joe Armstrong—"

"Oooh don't even start with the impaling… I mean that's gotta hurt Dante," Lady interrupted again.

"Cracks me up every time I think about it—" Dante burst into hysterical laughter, grabbing a slice of pizza and shoving it into his mouth.

Vergil eyed both of them intensely, grinding his teeth, oh he's had enough of Dante's idiotic manners, " Continue babbling and the next you find cracking will be your skull, lay wasted on the floor with your nonexistent brain splash up the wall and onto the ceiling."

Dante perked up, glancing up and down at his brother judgmentally, " Ha…ha Vergil, I thought you had Yamato stick up your ass all night, it's a pleasure to have to pursue you take it out a little, so you can loosen up."

"Perhaps I shove it down your throat?" Vergil raised his eyebrows, still not moving from the sofa," that would shut up!"

"Yeah well… that's what she said— ow!" Dante looked expectantly at Trish who just smacked him on the head, "What the hell Trish?"

"Language Dante,"

"Yeah yeah… whatever mom." Dante waved his hand dismissively before opening up another can, this time though before he could lift it to his mouth, the can was cut into little pieces and Dante was drench in liquid, he looked up dizzily, his reflexes dull by alcohol, as he stared at Vergil who was sheathing his Yamato. Dante threw up a middle finger and let it linger before picking up Ebony, he twirled it around his trigger finger, while opening up another can. Vergil on the other side of the room went on for his sword again before Trish stepped in between them, holding up her hands.

"Boys… boys that's enough." He yanked the can out of Dante's hands, "And you go easy on drinks, I know you're a big boy now but gotta still need that liver, huh Dante? " She looked over at Vergil then but before she could talk the sharp tip of Yamato froze at her throat.

Vergil was now standing not a foot away from her, holding his icy gaze on the demoness.

Time was healing, or at least that was how it was supposed to be, for Vergil though the mere sight of the demoness was like an old infection, pouring poison in his blood system. She reminded him of Mundus and the eternal flames, even though now he knew her story that she was also a tool tossed aside, he couldn't feel empathy for her. Dante seemed unfazed though, that sentimental idiot, but Vergil had always been on the edge around her although he could manage his anger more now.

Trish didn't look away, her cornflower blue eyes staring at Vergil's glassy ones as the man finally gave his sword a twirl after a stretching second. Lady that had already held her breath, let it go and Dante either didn't even notice the tension or chose to ignore it.

"I'm going to bed." Announced Vergil before walking to the stairs.

"Yo! Forgot this bro!" Dante shouted, not even caring that it was already 2 in the morning and they had neighbors as he picked up a poetry book Vergil always carried around after he gave the William Blake one to Nero. Vergil caught it in the air and before it hit his face, looing bluntly at Dante's dumb grin. "G'night."

The imbecil. Vergil still couldn't decide, after forty-something years since their birth, if he wanted to kill Dante or he could just let the dumbass stay alive and annoy him to the grave. Apparently he had chosen the latter.

On the way to the room, he thought about what Dante had said and about something else, the peace that had engulfed him, the balance he thought he had finally mastered.

"Every night and every morn

Some to Misery are born.

Every Morn and Every Night

Some are born to sweet delight

Some are born to endless night."

He heard V reciting again. He always did that at night, talking into his ears, playing violins, singing songs and reciting. Reciting Shakespeare, William Blake, and sometimes John Donne. Sometimes it calmed Vergil and other times it irritated him how the human side had taken over so quickly and eagerly.

"Stop reciting. I'm meditating."

"I thought we were supposed to talk while you meditate. "

"Wrong."

"You don't resent me as much I see."

"You aren't as resentful anymore."

There was a long pause before V let out a sigh. "Ah I see the balance Dante was talking about earlier— you think you're getting soft."

"Dante is stupid and so you are! Leave me alone."

"The former I agree with the latter, however… I am you, Vergil, in a sense." Said V quietly but not without a hint of amusement in his voice," But if by getting soft you mean not beheading mother's lookalike downstairs in cold blood, then, by all means, can't we both agree that it is a good thing? "

"It is weak."

"But our strength grows out of our weakness. Don't you agree? "

Sitting in that dark room crossed leg, Vergil couldn't help but let a small smile grace his lips.

"Isn't that what father always said?"

A long pause followed after that and for a moment Vergil felt a tinge of cold loneliness in his chest. Then the voice came out of nowhere.

"You belong here Vergil,"

"Do not start this conversation again," Replied Vergil," we both know that's not true, yes it's been a year being alienated in hiding, I have killed people. Destroyed lives, spilled blood without mercy-"

"But you do regret it." V interrupted.

"I do not."

"You regret it," V insisted because he was the only one Vergil couldn't lie to," That's why I am here instead of Urizen."

"You speak nonsense."

"If that is so, then perhaps you need to widen your own knowledge for no man is without repent. The important thing is that they are there for you, standing through evil and goodness and they're not letting you go, no matter how many times you push them away."

"Will I be able to live with myself though?" It was weak, both the question and the way Vergil uttered the words, it was uncharacteristic and Vergil regretted it the second he brought them up but then V wasn't just anybody.

"That is for you and for time to answer."

Vergil felt a smile tugged at the corners of his lips then, even though unsure, he still felt a strange warmness in his stomach and his chest.

Perhaps him finding himself wasn't so bad after all, at least he could still have these peaceful conversations with V and somehow he was more tolerable than Dante.

* * *

_A/N: Somehow Vergil sounds more fucked up here, I mean the guy is literally arguing with himself lol_  
_I don't know, should I continue this?_  
_perhaps no... let's just leave it as it is._


End file.
